An Average Night
by Dr J sLaughter
Summary: Just because he looks dead...  M for violence


A/N: Sorry it took a minute to upload on my new acct. Forgot about the 2 day wait period to upload stories.

I got the inspiration for this from a pic I found while googling a new wallpaper. (Perhaps you may want to wait until you've finished reading as not to spoil… your call) /24n54v6

I lost the original link, and if anyone knows who made the pic this story is based on, please let me know so I can give them the credit they deserve.

The motel room door flung open, loudly crashing against the wall and sending bits of dry wall to the carpet.

"Almost there…" grunted the clown outside.

The Joker came into the room backwards and hunched over. He was tightly gripping the collar of the mangled corpse of a man in his mid to late thirties. He dragged it over the doorframe with another grunt. Harley followed in behind him, tossing the room key on the dresser and leaning a bloodied sledgehammer against a rickety wooden chair. The chair was draped with clothes that surely belonged to the man that had fallen victim to the couple's games.

There was a trail of blood that followed behind the body. His shirt and jacket were in stained shreds and his chest was covered in a multitude of cuts ranging from light scratches to deep lacerations. His left leg was a crushed mess from being struck repeatedly by the 20lb sledgehammer to keep him from escaping.

"Harl, door puh-lease?" Joker said once the body was fully in the room.

"Sure thing, Mistah J!" Harley practically pranced to the door and closed it much lighter and easier than it had been opened. She turned the latch, was about to return to her lover, and then decided she had better lock the chain latch too.

Joker straightened himself and wiped his hands on his trousers, although his gloves were surely ruined and it did no good. The palms and finger tips were so soaked with blood that they had turned from royal purple to near black.

"Nice place you got here," the Joker mused, lightly nudging the corpse with the tip of his shoe. Not that he expected an answer, but he might as well let the guy in on his opinion. "Wallpaper's barely peeling, TV's intact, no blood stains…" He looked down and giggled. "Well until now anyway. You must really hire some high class women."

"The bed's pretty comfy too," Harley squealed, having taken off her heals and bouncing on the mattress.

"Fella's got class."

They both broke out in a fit of laughter that ended with Harley fallen on the bed and the clown on the floor, half sprawled over the prior occupant of the room.

"So what now, Mistah J?"

"Welllll," the Joker droned, tongue poking out to run across the scar on his lower lip. He rubbed the back of his neck in thought, his glove leaving red streaks on the nape of his neck.. "I was thinkin' we'd rest up here 'til-" He cut short and stared unmoving at the body under his legs.

Harley froze as well. "What? What is it?"

"Shhh. I think our friend may still be breathing…"

Sure enough the Joker's knees, which were laying across the supposed dead man's back, were rising and falling with the man's slow breathing.

Harley crept off the bed and crouched beside her lover, poking the unconscious man in the side.

"Helllooo?" she chimed. Poke. Poke. Poke. "Maybe he's in a coma.." She gave him a swift kick to the ribs.

Suddenly, his hand reached out, grabbing Harley's ankle and yanking her to the ground. She hit her head against the bedside table and yelped.

"Fuck!" Joker swiftly lifted his legs up off the man and tried to get to his feet, stumbling a couple times in response to the startle.

Even through the haze she felt, Harley reached up and grabbed the telephone receiver off the table above her. She tried to throw it at her attacker- who was still trying to compose himself enough to figure out what was going on- but the chord yanked it back before it made contact.

By this time, the Joker has scrambled to his feet and had made a grab for the sledgehammer. He kicked me man between the shoulder blades, sending his face crashing back into the carpet. The sledgehammer swung around the clown's head and came down with a sickening crack to the man's skull. The man went still once again, blood and brain matter oozing into the carpet.

"Housecleaning sure will have a hell of a time gettin' that up."

Harley was still slouched in front of the bedside table. She was rubbing the back of her head where she had hit the table. No moisture meant no blood which was good. At least she didn't have to go find some back alley surgeon for stitches that were sure to get infected. She then turned her attention to the Joker, who was shoving the bloody bits of bone and limbs under the bed skirt.

"I thought he was dead!" she shrieked.

"Hush. You'll you get the neighbors callin' the front desk on us."

"But he-"

"Shhh." He knelt before her and put a hand on her face, tracing her lips with his thumb. The blood transferring from his glove to her face disguised her black lips like a layer of cherry lipstick. "I promise he's dead now."

Harley pulled away from him and went from the floor to sitting on the bed.

"I'm sorry, honey-buns. I'm just a little shaken, y'know," she said in response to the Joker's puppy dog frown.

The Joker nodded and there was silence. Harley lay back on the bed and curled up, not even bothering to change out of her skin tight outfit.

Just as Harley was on the verge of drifting off, she felt something nudging her shoulder.

"Hey. Harley-girl. Hey."

She ignored it.

"Harl." Nudge. "Harl." Nudge. "Harley."

"What?" It was more of a groan than a word.

"Look."

Harley cracked her eyes open and blinked into the light. She took her time pulling her torso to look over the side of the bed. The Joker was sitting cross legged on the floor, having shed his bloody clothes and shoved them in the nightside drawer. All that remained on his body were his striped boxers, plaid socks, gloves and suspenders. Harley assumed they were they only articles of clothing that had remained stainless- aside from the gloves which he was always reluctant to take off. They kept his hands clean, he said. It was ridiculous looking, but the sight made Harley smile.

But that's not what the Joker was trying to show her. He was motioning to the ground in front of him. It seems he had done some finger painting in the time she has been trying to fall asleep. And it also seemed he had been using the blood oozing out from under the bed as a pallet. All around him was written "Ha Ha HA Ha HA HA." It also extended up the wall. The clown had been hard at work.

"Why'd you do that, puddin?" Harley asked, rubbing her eyes awake.

"Cuz I saw the funny side of that little fiasco. And I didn't want to wake you up by laughing so I finger painted it instead."

"So…" She slid off the mattress and sat beside him. "You woke me up instead to show me your 'silent laughter?'"

"Um. Yeah. I guess." His grin stretch from ear to ear and he let out a short choke of a laugh. "Didn't really think that one through."

"No. You didn't." She smiled to show she didn't mind. "So what's the funny side?"

"We wanted to scare the shit out of him, kill him, and take his room, right?"

Harley nodded.

"But in the end, he was the one who got the last scare!" He busted out in laughter. This time not having to write it out in respect of the sleeping Harley.

Harley giggled lightly. Though the Joker found it hilarious, he wasn't the one who had has the shit scared out of them and put in the risk of head trauma. Instead she looked to the blood puddle her lover had been using as paint. She dipped her finger tips in it and was disappointed to notice it was cold. She must have been laying in bed longer than she thought.

Harley put her index finger to the carpet and started to paint. She drew a heart and inside she wrote "Harley Loves Mista J."

The Joker stared at it for a minute after she was finished and he didn't say anything. Harley cupped his face and raised it up to look at her.

"Do you like it, puddin?"

The Joker didn't respond. Instead, he took her hand and removed it form his face. He held her hand in both of his and kissed her finger tips, making a red mess of smeared lipstick and blood around his mouth.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered. "My Harlequin Queen."

"My Clown Prince," she responded, equally as quiet.

He kissed her, again and again and again, leaving a dozen red pairs of lips covering her mouth, cheeks and chin.

Harley pulled away for a moment. "I love you, Mistah J."

The Joker grinned like the devil and pounced on her, pinning her to the ground and fumbling for the zipper on her jumpsuit.

A/N: Even though this is a one shot, I gave those little hints and made sure the Joker didn't respond to Harley in the end with thoughts of another one shot as a sequel.


End file.
